


Undertow's Origin Story

by AgentUndertow619



Series: Overwatch [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Autism, Blood and Gore, F/F, F/M, Family, Friendship, Gen, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Fall of Overwatch, Self-Insert, Survivor Guilt, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-26
Updated: 2018-10-26
Packaged: 2019-08-07 23:03:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16417709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgentUndertow619/pseuds/AgentUndertow619
Summary: Even after The Omnic Crisis, there will always be conflict. That's human nature... whether it's for resource, an ideology, to gain power or even a pity disagreement, man has spilled immeasurable amounts of blood for one cause or another. There have been many reasons for war, tools for war, causes of war and results of war, but war… war never changes.





	Undertow's Origin Story

**Author's Note:**

> See End Notes for true summary

The gunfire was deafening. Bullets ricocheted off the outer and inner walls and the explosions of grenades shook the apartment complex as the Canadian soldiers and American marines stood their ground against the oncoming onslaught. The walls have long began to crumble under the constant hailstorm of bullets.

 

Four casualties in the squad of ten. One dead, two barely conscious and one still fighting. The medic was trying to two of the injured soldiers while avoiding derbies and bullets ricocheting in the room. Staff Sergeant John Nash of the U.S marines sat against one of the walls below a hole an RPG impact made. He was frantically changing the magazine in his rifle. He hit the bolt release with the heel of his hand while watching the bolt carrier snap the ejection port closed. Quick as a flash, he sprung to his feet and rested the handguard on the lower edge of the hole, he lined up the iron sights on a target and pulled the trigger. The small red sprays from the body uneased him, but it meant that the shots hit their mark. Firing two rounds at a time on semi auto, he cut down one enemy down after another.

 

“Their coming up the stairs!” One of the men shouted a voice over the radio system. John ducked back behind his cover to give the order. "Someone link up with Foley and hold the stairwell!” John ordered over the gunfire. “D!” John shouted, catching the attention of one of the Canadian soldiers as he was helping the medic put a splint on the forearm of one of wounded soldiers. “Finish up helping Clarke and take position here to cover the intersection!” The Canadian replied “You got it!” to John as the sergeant primed a flashbang and lobbed it out the hole.

 

The sergeant rose up and fired into the street, taking a bit of pressure off the courtyard of another building across the road. 'D' slipped up behind John and patted his shoulder to signal he’ll take watch. As John made his way to the balcony, D rested his rifle on the ledge of the hole and fired into the street. John rose up and aimed the underbarrel grenade launcher on his rifle towards the entrance of an alley where two or three men ran into and fired. The 40mm grenade detonated as it hit the wall just inside the alley entrance.

 

“Bobcat 2-1, Bobcat 3-1! Do you copy!” The call was from the sergeant of another squad in the lobby of the building across the street they were covering. John ducked down behind the concrete barrier and pressed the talk button on the mic for the radio. “Go ahead 3-1!” 

“We planted the fireworks, but we can't leave, break! The AO’s too hot and we have multiple casualties, break! We need CASEVAC and reinforcements, now! Over!”

 

John switched his radio frequency to contact their command base.

 

“FOB Matrix, this is Bobcat 2-1! Do you copy, over!” John shouted into the mic. “Bobcat 2-1, FOB Matrix. Send traffic, over,” the radio operator replied. “Bobcat 3 planted the fireworks, but we've got multiple wounded and at least two KIA, break! We’re heavily outnumbered and outgunned with multiple snipers taking pot shots at us, break! Over a dozen and a half foot soldiers with automatic weapons are still kicking on ground level and have already breached the crows nest, break! Requesting air support at our AO! How copy, over!” John waited for about fifteen seconds for a reply, in till he heard what he didn't want to hear. “Uh… negative Bobcat 2-1. I say again, negative. RPGs have already shot down two V-22s on the other side of the city and convoys have been mobilized to evacuate any survivors, break. All chopper support has been grounded until further notice, break. Will send info if situation changes, over.” John angrily hit the heel of his boot against the floor at the news.

 

“Where the fuck is that air support?!” shouted Clarke as finished with the wounded man before she checked her rifle. John switched his radio back to the closed frequency for the squad. “Bobcat, be advised! The RPGs are too big of a risk for the choppers! Two transports were already shot down! We need to hold out on our own!” John said over the radio. “Sonofabitch!” a marine swore to himself as he loaded one of his few remaining mags into his rifle. "I'm running low!" He shouted.

 

The exchange of bullets and explosives escalated as more hostiles flooded the streets below and fired their automatic rifles at the squad's position. As one of US marines continued firing his light machine gun at the oncoming targets in short bursts, he saw a single greater danger than the dozen plus human targets. A pickup truck had rounded the corner with four more gunmen and one man on a heavy machine gun. “We’ve got a technical rolling in!” he shouted as the gunner opened fire.

 

The men and women of the squad hit the deck as the half inch diameter bullets hit the thick reinforced concrete walls inside the room. Most of them made it, except one. As D landed on the ground, he swore he felt something wet splash on the right side of his face. He brought his left hand to his face and wiped at the spot. He removed the gloved hand from his face to see that the liquid didn't just dampen the fabric. The substance coloured it… in crimson.

 

“NASH!” The marines and Canadians on the floor turned their heads to see their XO’s body. John had taken a direct hit from a 50 calibre bullet just below the collarbone, blowing apart his upper torso. He died almost instantly.

 

D still laid on his stomach at the gory mess that was Sgt John Nash as the world went quiet. All he could hear over the silence of his mind was blurred voices and muffled sounds of rock hitting rock as his eyes tried to take in what was happening around him. A young American marine was on a knee against an inner wall looking like he was hyperventilating with panic. One of the other marines near the balcony wall lobbed a grenade over the wall, trying to lighten up the heat so the squad could fire again. Clarke and one of the other troops jumped on top of the wounded men to protect them from the flying debris, still staring at the dismemberment.

 

Then, D’s eyes fell back on John's corpse as the pool of blood still stretched from his body and began to dampen Ben's uniform under the armour. All in felt like hours, his mind was completely blank. He felt frozen, as if every joint in his body locked. He had forgotten how to breathe, his lungs started to panic for oxygen. Within his mind, there was only one question running through...

 

_ What now? _

**Author's Note:**

> Even in the heat of battle, new friendships can form and new paths will present themselves. This is the story of an ordinary man's transition from being a Canadian army infantry soldier to a new beginning as a multitasking agent of a global peacekeeping, counter terrorism and humanitarian organization. He will make many friends on his path, some more extraordinary than others, but first, he had to survive a fiery ordeal that threatens to reawaken a long buried nightmare of brutal control over all through fear and bloodshed.


End file.
